Then he recalled the kind eyes of Medinskaya and her small, graceful figure; and beside her arose the tall, robust, and rosy-cheeked Lubov Mayakina with smiling eyes and with a big light golden-coloured braid.

"Do not rely upon men, expect but little at their hands"-- his father's words began to ring in his memory.
He sighed sadly and cast a glance around him.

The tree leaves were fluttering from the rain, and the air was full of mournful sounds.

The gray sky seemed as though weeping, and on the trees cold tears were trembling.

And Foma's soul was dry, dark; it was filled with a painful feeling of orphanhood.